


Okiya Angel

by LeoOtherLands



Series: The Scent of Flowers [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: 'Cause Iruka likes them, All the smut..., Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Bottom Hatake Kakashi, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Iruka is with Kakashi, Iruka is with everyone..., Iruka loves Kakashi, It's his job give him a break..., M/M, Multi, Past Iruka/Anko, Platonic Iruka/Itachi, Plot, Smut, The author is amused, There are lots of flowers, Top Umino Iruka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-05-15 04:18:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoOtherLands/pseuds/LeoOtherLands
Summary: Iruka has found his peace in the Okiya, and he doesn't want to leave. But the past never stays past, and Anko is back to prove it. Given a job he can't refuse, Iruka suddenly finds himself with one mission he won't fail, he refuses to fail. Keep Itachi alive. And why? Because he won't let one more child die.





	1. Unwanted Visits and Peony Flowers

On my knees, I slid the door shut with a snap and rounded on the woman standing over me with her hands braced on her hips and a fuck-all smile on her lips. Mesh armor clung to her curvy form like a second skin and her dark hair was caught up in a thick, messy ponytail. There were many men I knew who would kill for a chance at those full hips and plush breasts, but I wasn’t in the mood.

“What do you want, Anko? I snapped with the same kind of _sinck!_ in my voice as the door meeting the frame. “And furthermore, how did you find me here?”

“Hump.” The gray-eyed woman made the sound, dropping down to her knees in the pillows strewn over the room’s floor, hands curled on her thighs. “It’s not as though you made it hard to find you, ‘Ruka. You didn’t even leave _Konoha_.”

“And now you’re paying to talk to me.” I scowled at the woman, then ran a hand over the scar across my nose. “Come on, Anko, spill it. You wouldn’t be spending this much coin just to catch up on old times with me. You want me to do something, and I made it very clear when I left, I’m done. I’m through. I’m finished. I’ve had enough.”

I leaned forward, locking my brown eyes with her gray ones. “Whatever it is you want I’m not going to do it.”

She smirked. “That attitude is just the reason everyone was against my coming to find you. But I convinced them I could change your mind.”

“You can go fuck yourself, Anko.”

She snorted, crawling towards me with a wicked glint in those pale, misty eyes I knew too well. It made my cock swell against my will.

“Oh? I’d rather.” Her fingers climbed my chest to trace a sharp nail over my neckline and throat. “Fuck you.”

“You can’t be serious.” I swatted her hand aside. Knowing full well she’d killed men for less. And attempting to avoid her nails scratching my skin. Each was painted a different color, and the poison in each was different too. “You honestly want to fuck?”

“Well, I did pay for a few hours.” Her smirk grew, as she draped herself over me, prompting me to fall back onto my elbows. “And it has been a few years since I’ve had a taste of you, Iruka. You can’t possibly convince me you prefer this place to me and what you left. What are you doing here? Catering to old, fat lords instead of walking free.”

My face was settled looking up at her. Even if something lower down was at attention and poking her in the gut. Damn. I’d been in the _Okiya_ too long and was too used to perking up at a moment’s notice.

“I can say that, Anko. I _like_ it here. I’d rather sheath myself in some fat lord’s ass, than sheath my blade in some young man’s chest. I’m tired, Anko. And this place is peaceful.”

“Peaceful.” She laughed, that glint in her eyes going metallic. Those poison nails of hers skimmed my neck and urged open my _kimono_ , baring an expanse of broad, toned, and scarred chest. “Well allow me to interrupt your peace, ‘Ruka, because I want fucked.”

“You must be kidding,” I groaned, even though I knew she wasn’t. “You really want to do this now? What in all hells do you want, Anko?”

Her hand left my chest, only to slip up between my legs and grasp my cock, making me gasp. With her other hand, she pulled her mesh armor up over her thighs. Then it was just a matter of rolling her hips forward and sitting herself down on me.

“This!”

“Ah! Ha!” The sound escaped me, even as I blinked up at her. “Gods, Anko!” I moaned. She was hot and wet, and gods, I remembered this. The woman squeezed me tight, rolling her hips and biting her lip, as she looked down at me under her lashes. “Ah, hells! Just talk to me already!”

“Now?” she asked, lifting up and dropping back down in quick movements, rubbing her own clit with a lazy finger, holding her mesh skirt out of the way, so I could see it all.

“Yes, now! Haaa! But don’t think this is changing my mind!”

“Never said it was meant to! But I want to finish first.”

So saying, she picked up her pace and I threw my head back, whining out a sound sure to carry through the thin, patterned walls. Anko barked raucous laughter and clenched around me, her orgasm hitting fast, as always. She’d never liked wasting time on foreplay or gratification.

I followed in her wake, my release spilling into her, as her nails wracked my thigh. “Shit, Anko!” I snarled. “That better not have been the deadly stuff! What did you just poison me with?!”

“Nothing serious,” she said, lifting off me and letting me scuttle back and tuck myself away, straightening my _kimono_.

“Nothing serious.” I shook my head. “When have you ever had something simple on those nails of yours?”

Her teeth flashed in a deadly smile. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Things change, ‘Ruka.” She wiggled a finger. “These days, I keep a few fingers painted with a little something to heighten sensation. Great for sex.”

I felt my cheeks flush. Heat. “Lovely. And for interrogations too, I imagine. Now what do you want? Whatever it is, I’m-”

“We need you to keep someone safe.”

“What?”

“Fugaku’s son. Well, bastard son. The one lowest on the line to be heir, and the _only_ heir now.”

“Only heir…” I felt my heart drop out of me, faces flashing behind my eyes. “Sasuke, Shisui, Izume-”

“Dead.” The word was clipped. “We’re at war, ‘Ruka. People die. But we can’t afford to lose the last one- Iruka!”

I shook my head, getting up and pacing around. The faces. The damned faces. Sasuke. Shisui. Izume. Children. Children I’d held on my hip and chased around gardens. Whose hair I’d fixed with flowers.

“Fuck!” I pulled at my hair, ripping at the elaborate design I’d tied it in. Blood. So much blood, and Anko was bringing it to my haven.

“He’s the last one, Iruka. The last of the line-”

“I don’t give a shit about family lines! How the fuck old is he?”

The gray eyes tracked my movements from the door to the wall, from the wall to the door. “Sixteen, seventeen, I don’t know. How long have you been gone, Iruka? He’s been hidden away with a pretend family since he was born, for his own safety, but the Nara have caught wind of his existence. They’ll find him.”

“Bring him here.”

“What?”

I spun to face her, my white _kimono_ swirling. “I said, bring him here, Anko. Have his guardians sell him to the _Okiya_ , and I’ll watch over him. He’ll lose his precious virginity, but he’ll be safe.

“Damn it! I’ll do it, all right! But I’ll do it on my own terms, or you can get the fuck out!”

I walked to her, face flushed, brown eyes molten, silk sliding over my skin. A dangerous angel. An avenging angel, once. A killer.

_Please gods, let me be a guardian now._

I grabbed a handful of her mesh armor at the throat. “And if you think you can manipulate me, I’ll teach you different. I’m still done. I’ll keep someone alive, but I’m through with your dirty work.”

Anko’s eyes were still hazy swirls of mist. Her teeth flashed in a grin.

“Whatever you say, ‘Ruka.”

† † †

I’d chosen the pink silk for the day. And I’d woven cherry blossoms in my hair. A spray of them rested above my right ear. My fingers brushed them in contentment. Flowers were a comfort. They offered peace on their lingering scent and fragile beauty in their simple existence.

With the knowledge, I held a peony bloom in my hand for the boy. _Fugaku’s boy_ , I reminded myself. Likely he wouldn’t care for flowers, but I needed some way to greet him.

Humming a wordless melody I’d once used to soothe Sasuke and Izume to sleep, I straightened my _kimono_ , and fussed with my hair a moment more. Really, the mirror told me there was nothing else I could do. Even the subtle rouge on my cheeks was perfect.

I shrugged and made my way out of my private room. It was early morning and the _Okiya_ was quiet at that hour. The _oiran_ , all resting after long hours of entertaining the previous day and night, left the private area of the house drowsy and suffused with soft breathing. Generally, the public part of the _Okiya_ would be the same, apart from the lady of the house’s thick snores, Tsunade having drunk and gambled herself into happy oblivion in the wee hours. Leaving me the only one who chose the dawn to be awake and allowing me to prowl the halls as I liked. Singing my tunes and freshening the rooms with flowers.

That day was different. Coming up behind the partition dividing the common rooms from the small lounge area, where guests entered and were greeted by a smiling parade of, as yet, unclaimed _oiran_ , I could already hear Tsunade up and talking in a too loud voice. As expected.

Nothing from Anko in weeks, almost a month, and then, the night before, she’d stormed in like a tsunami, demanding to be fucked, as she’d paid for it, and telling me the boy would be dropped into my lap come morning. I’d given her an orgasm, then shoved her out the door with a snarl that had only made her laugh. Infuriating. The more I interacted with her again, the more I wondered what I’d ever seen in the woman.

Ah yes, the danger. At one point, I’d actually enjoyed that. Before I’d seen a few too many of my friends and companions shorn open with swords and drenched myself in the blood of their killers.

Shaking my head to clear it of the unpleasant memories, hands fluttering over silk, smoothing my _kimono_ , I stepped up closer to the partition to listen to the restless voices on the other side. Tsunade haggling price with several people who seemed agitated. And why not? They knew whose son they were selling to a whore house, even if it was what they’d been told to do.

I waited with impatience, until the thing was done, and the boy’s former caretakers had left. Then Tsunade’s voice caught me before I could do anything.

“Ah, alright, Iruka, you can show yourself now!”

I stepped out with a brisk smile, waving the flower in my hand. “Oh, Tsunade dear, you know me too well. But what can I possibly do for you this early in the morning?”

I let my eyes scan over the boy as I said it. He stood to one side, eyes downcast, face expressionless, body loose and dressed in dusty, close-fitting pants and shirt, his long night-black hair tied at the back of his neck.

One look and I knew whoever the mother had been, it was Fugaku’s son. It was in the eyes, those weird, dark eyes with hints of red, like ruby shot through obsidian. And it was in the face too. Deep care lines were drawn down the young face, from his eyes to his mouth, as if he carried some unimaginable weight where no one could see.

But there were differences too. The body. He was small, thin, almost delicate, if that were possible. And he was wrapped in a quiet mantel of timeless melancholy that infected those unusual eyes with an oldness, which placed his age anywhere between fifteen and thirty. I found myself a bit over-awed with the mess deposited in my care.

“Ah, our new one,” Tsunade said with a wave of her hand. “As you’re here, and in my business, Iruka, why don’t you take him and get him ready for tonight? I have a splitting headache, and now have to deposit this money in the bank.”

“But of course!” I enthused, sashaying over to the boy, a shit eating grin splitting my face. “With how much you drank last night, it’s a wonder you’re even on your feet, Tsunade darling.”

“You’re a monster, Iruka,” she said, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “It’s a good thing I love you. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Bye-bye,” I said with a dismissive wave. “Try not to get lost in a _sake_ sink.” Then I surprised the boy by sobering and tucking the peony in my hand behind his ear. “Now, now, we’ll get you taken care of. You look positively dreadful.”

He made no protest when I took his hand and led him back into the _Okiya_. Indeed, he said nothing at all, prompting me to smile at him in the kindest way I could.

“I’m Iruka, Tsunade’s favorite little monster. And who might you be?”

“Itachi.”

“Itachi. What a lovely name. Welcome to your new home, Itachi. It’s a good place, never mind that old _Oni_ out there. Really, she’s only half as bad as she seems. Mostly, she’s just sleep deprived.”

The words were meant to be comforting, reassuring, but they had the opposite effect. The boy burst into near-silent tears, startling me, but not upsetting my natural balance.

Hardly thinking, just acting, I slid the door to one of the common rooms open and tugged the boy inside before closing us in the privacy the thin wall afforded. “There now,” I said, settling us both on the pillows scattered over the floor. “What’s wrong, love?”

Burying his face in my pink-silk clad body to muffle the slight sounds of his hitching sobs, the young thing pulled himself into my lap, as though I was his mother and not some man he’d just met. And a prostitute at that.

The base need for comfort was so apparent it rose in me a sick twist with the thought maybe it had been a bad idea to bring him to the _Okiya_. If I had known nothing but a sword in my past life, I would have been flustered by him and his tears. But I’d also been one to care for Fugaku’s other children, and I reached for what I’d done when Izume had fallen and torn her knee open on her own _kunai_ or Sasuke had railed at the world for reason of being the oldest and not wanting to inherit or Shisui had come to my bed, begging me to help him, to relieve him so he could sleep.

“There, there. It’s alright,” I said, my hands soft on him. “Really it is.”

He kept crying and I let him, one hand rubbing his back, the other easing the tie out of his hair, so I could run my fingers through its tangled length. In time, his bout of sorrow relaxed, and he simply lay in my lap, breathing ragged, but recovering, gasps.

“I’m sorry,” he managed.

“Don’t be,” I said, using my body and hands to show him he didn’t have to move and to keep him there. “We all need to let things out sometimes. But why don’t you tell me what the matter is? Perhaps I can help.”

“I doubt that.” The words were muffled in my doubtless stained _kimono_.

“Oh?” I slid a finger under his chin, to tilt it just enough so he could see me. “We’ll never know unless we try, will we?”

He in took a shuddering breath. “My family…”

“Yes?”

“Incurred a large debt to a man named Fugaku.”

I felt my stomach drop.

“To get the money to repay it, they sold me to this _Okiya_.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” I said.

 _Oh, well plaid, Anko_ , I thought. _Not even the vulgar reassurance this was being done to protect him and everything would be fine. Only the ruthless sale of him by the only family he had ever known._

I sighed and shook my head, making a mental note to wring the woman’s neck the next time I saw her. “I’m sure they didn’t want to, Itachi. I’m sure they only did it because they felt they had no other choice.” I let my arms apply gentle pressure to his shoulders. A hug of sorts. “And you’re right, I can’t do anything to make that better. But I can help you settle here. This isn’t a bad place, and nothing and no one will harm you here.”

He nodded against me, and I took his shoulders in my hands, pushing back on them, forcing him to half sit up. “Now, let’s start with a bath. You’re an absolute mess. You must have walked days to get to _Konoha_.”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” I said, taking it as agreement to both statements. “A bath, fresh clothes, and some food, and we’ll see where we are.

“Come along now,” I added, standing and pulling him to his feet by both hands.

He came with me willingly to the almost hot spring like baths at the back of the _Okiya_ , the structure of which raised some mild interest out of his somberness. He even willingly, if a bit abashedly, removed his clothes with me and got into the water. It wasn’t until I started wading toward him, he stiffened and paled.

“What are you doing?”

I paused. “I’m not going to do anything to you, you don’t want me to, Itachi. I was planning to wash your hair for you. You have so many knots in it a bird could make a nest in there and no one would notice.”

His paler turned to a flush and he turned his back to me, giving me access to his hair. I washed it, worked scented oils into it, and combed it slowly, being careful not to touch any other part of his body.

Yet, I knew this wouldn’t do. If he was going to work that night, I would need to at least get him somewhat comfortable being around other naked people. With this in mind, I laid his hair over his back, when I was done with it, and touched him lightly on the side.

“Would you mind?” He turned to me. “Doing mine?” I smiled at him.

“Your hair?”

“Yes. I’ve had a bath today already, but, if I’m having another, it would be nice to have someone wash my hair. It’s soothing.”

He reached for the soap I had used without a word, and I leaned my chest and head against the side of the bath with a contented sigh. Itachi’s fingers in my hair. I let him work in silence for a while, pondering all my options with him.

It was Itachi’s voice which broke my reverie.

“Iruka?”

“Hum?” I hummed.

“Why do you have so many scars?”

A sharp, little laugh broke out of me. I rubbed a finger over the scar across the bridge of my nose, picturing the ones on my back.

“They’re not from here. I wasn’t always an _oiran_ , Itachi. I had a hard life before I came here. This place seems like heaven compared to where I’ve been.

“Heaven,” he muttered.

I turned in the water, letting my bare, slippery leg brush his to see how that would be. He didn’t react, and I spoke my thoughts.

“Yes, heaven. I know it may not seem like it right now, but you’ll be okay here.”

He shook his head. “You’re kind, but I don’t think I will, Iruka.”

Before I knew what was happening, he had his face in his hand and he was weeping again.

“Now, now, none of that!” Without thinking how he would react I moved and took him in my arms. “There’s no need to cry. Really, there isn’t.”

His naked everything was pressed up against mine, and I felt his breath hitch and his body go rigid and, for a moment, I thought I’d made a mistake. Then he sagged into me, _clung onto me_ , and let his tears fall on my neck.

“I can’t do this, Iruka.”

I stroked his back. Part of me wanted to tell him of course he _could. Anyone could_. It was just fucking! But I kept my mouth shut, praying to all the gods I wouldn’t have to offer to fuck him to make him feel better about it. I was sure Anko would kill me with whatever deadly poison she painted her nails with these days if I did that.

When his tears ran dry again, I washed his face and brought him back to my private room. Where I fussed over him like a mother hen. Dressing him in a silver _kimono_ with blue embroidering on the sleeves and hems, then commanding him to sit in front of me, so I could fix his hair.

He seemed to enjoy the process, or, at the least, the songs I sang while I braided and knotted and wove white peonies in his hair.

“There!” I exclaimed when I was done and turned him so he could see himself in the mirror. “You’re beautiful, Itachi!”

It was more than true. Washed and dressed appropriately, the boy was a vision. His solemn eyes and melancholy attitude only adding a mysterious sense of allure.

I smoothed a part of his hair, needlessly, and knelt next to him, so we were both framed in the long mirror. Bronze and raven. “You’re the most beautiful _oiran_ in the _Okiya_.”

Another mistake on my part. He brought a hand to his face and started crying into an over-long sleeve.

“Oh, my dear boy,” I said, reaching for him. He came into my arms, as if it were natural he should be there, holding me around the waist and hiding his face in my lap. Sprawled there, in a tangle of silver-blue silk and flowers, his form blurred into an androgynous, recumbent thing, neither man nor woman, only human. And unhappy.

“It’s going to be alright, truly it is, Itachi. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, and you’re worried about doing something you’ve never done before, but it’ll all be alright. This place is… safe. And quiet. The worst thing you have to worry about here are some limp, old men who need some flattery to make them feel they aren’t as limp or old as they are. And sometimes there are young men.” I squeezed his shoulders, leaning over him to let him feel me near, so he could feel protected. “And pretty girls.” Another finger under his chin, so I could see his face. “What do you like, Itachi? I’ll be sure you get it tonight.”

His eyes were bright with tears, making those red highlights glow. “I want to not be here, Iruka. All my life, I’ve wanted to claim one person and be claimed by them in turn. I don’t know what I’m going to do tonight.”

I let his face go and rubbed his shoulders. Thoughtful. “How old are you, Itachi?” His age was as indeterminate as his gender to me in the moment.

“Eighteen,” he murmured, laying his head back in my lap.

“Eighteen.” Older than I would have thought. Fugaku must have fathered him a few months before I left. Before Tenzo had died, and Sai had put his sword through his own chest in a fit of mad grief. Before I’d had enough.

My head moved from side to side on its own, trying to remove the feel of Sai’s body from my hands and his blood from my face. I wanted to say something to reassure Itachi he was plenty old enough to experiment and learn there was more to life than one person, but Tsunade chose that moment to breeze in and spare me from saying the words. Luckily. The instant Tsunade threw open the door, her face flushed with drink, I became sure they only would have made Itachi cry again.

“Iruka! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere!”

I felt the boy’s body stiffen and curl further into me, becoming even more an unidentifiable lump of silk. I felt, if he were smaller, younger, he would be fully on my lap. Trembling. As it was, he just lie still, breathing shallow against my legs.

“Tsunade!” I scowled at the woman, letting my hands apply pressure to Itachi’s shoulder blades, so he could feel my presence as a tangible thing. So he would know I was there, watching over him. “Can’t you see our new one isn’t doing very well? How thoughtless of you!”

The woman blinked at me, taken aback by my impertinent scolding of her, and my words. “Our new one?”

“Yes,” I said, gentler, rubbing a hand over the boy’s upper back. “Itachi is having a hard time settling in. And your barging in here isn’t helping in the slightest! Honestly, Tsunade!”

The lady of the house just kept staring and puzzling at the person in my lap. Obviously attempting to find the features of the dirty, road-worn boy she had bought that morning in the ball of silk and flowers I was cradling.

I sighed, slipping another finger under Itachi’s chin and leaning close, so I could see his face, but he was shielded from Tsunade. His eyes were still bright with unshed tears, but he looked at me steadily.

“Here, darling,” I said, “why don’t you stand up and show Tsunade how beautiful you are?”

It was clear he did not want to, but he allowed me to take his hands and bring him to his feet. He stood beside me with downcast eyes, doing his best not to shudder.

“There, there,” I soothed. “You’re lovely! Though, I’m not sure if silver is your color… I think the red silk would suit you better.”

I fussed with his sleeve and the flowers in his hair, hardly aware of Tsunade’s dazed expression.

“The bronze…”

“Hum?” I hummed, turning to face the woman.

“The bronze silk.”

“I really don’t think bronze is Itachi’s color, either, Tsunade.” I frowned at the woman.

“Not for him, for you, Iruka!”

“Well, yes, of course,” I agreed. “Bronze is my color. But what does that have to do with anything? Honestly, Tsunade!”

“The two of you… In the window,” she stuttered. “The bronze silk and the red.”

I blinked, thoughtful. “Yes, that would be lovely. Though, if I’m dressing him in red, I think I’ll have to change the flowers too. Red peonies.”

My fingers brushed Itachi’s cheek, wishing he wouldn’t look so sad. Tsunade’s next words removed the thought from my mind.

“With his looks… Can you imagine the price, ‘Ruka?”

“Price? Oh!” The meaning of it burst in my thoughts. “Yes, of course! That’s wonderful, Tsunade!” I spun to her and gripped her hands. “Yes, yes! I’ll get him dressed and we’ll sit in the window-”

I was turning and pulling away to reach for Itachi, but stopped short, cut off by the shake of Tsunade’s head and her hand on my wrist. “Ah, you can’t tonight, ‘Ruka. Kakashi’s here.”

“Oh! Kakahsi’s here!” A swell of happiness bubbled up in me. A heady thing setting my heart on fire and my cock to… other things. My eyes touched on Itachi, and both sensations faded. “Oh, Kakahsi’s here. How long has he paid for, Tsunade?”

“Eh! He seems to be low on money; only two hours.”

“Wonderful!” I declared. “Excellent!” It was easy to slip out of Tsunade’s grasp, then I was holding Itachi in a light embrace.

“It’s going to be alright. I told you it would.” I drew back a bit, so I could smile at him. “You don’t have to do anything tonight, Itachi, accept stay here in my room and relax.”

“I… Don’t?” His strange eyes flicked from Tsunade to me. The red in them expanding, threatening to overflow the banks of its threading veins and spill into the black.

“No, you don’t. Not a thing,” I assured. “I’d stay here with you, but my best customer is here, so I want you to simply relax and wait for me, Itachi dear.” I pondered him. “Was your family well-endowed enough for you to learn to read?” I was _sure_ they had been. Fugaku would not leave his son wholly uneducated, even if he never revealed himself to the boy.

“Yes,” he said.

“Splendid!” I turned him, so he could see my bookshelves. “As you can see, I have quite the collection. Why don’t you sit and find something you enjoy? You can change into any of my clothes you like. I’m sure they’ll be too big for you, but they’ll be comfy. And, when I get back, I’ll take your hair down.” Another smile. “Alright?”

He nodded, the red still threatening to bleed through the black in his gaze. “Iruka?”

“Yes, love?” I asked, whisking an imaginary hair behind his ear.

“Will you be alright?”

I looked at him, blank a moment, before I understood and graced him with another smile, taking both his hands in mine. “Of course, I will, dear boy! Kakashi is my absolute favorite!” I squeezed his hands. “He’s the most adorable bottom I’ve ever met! Er, never mind that.” My laugh waved the words away when I saw he had no idea what they meant. “He’s a good man, Itachi. And he’s kind to me.

“Now!” I spun him and nudged him softly toward my bed. “Relax. Rest. And, most importantly, don’t worry. I’ll be back in two hours to take care of you.”

Only when I was sure the boy was doing as I suggested, after he nodded subtly and moved off across my floor, did I turn on Tsunade and bustle her out my door.

“Honestly, Tsunade!” I hissed at her. “Did you really have to barge in like that? That boy has done nothing but cry his eyes out since you left this morning, and your total lack of tact is undoing everything I’ve done to calm him down!”

The lady of the _Okiya_ stared at me, once again, dumbfounded by my scolding her. “Ah! Why on earth is he upset?”

“Why?! His family just sold him to be a whore, Tsunade! And, more than that, the boy seems to have the absurd notion of only wanting to bed one person his whole life.”

She opened her mouth, and I wagged a finger at her to silence whatever she would say.

“Just you stay out of the way, you delightful monster, and let me take care of the boy. I’ll handle everything. Believe me, it’s for the best. Now, which room is Kakashi in?”

Despite everything, I _was_ glad Kakashi was there. I needed a distraction, and I hadn’t seen the man since before Anko’s first unwanted visit. I was humming delightedly when I slid the door open to one of the common rooms to find Kakashi standing amid the pillows. Armor already removed and _katana_ leaning against a wall.

“Kakashi, darling!” I said, sliding the door shut behind me, smile flashing all my teeth. “Wherever have you been?”

“I could ask you the same question. What took you so long?”

I tutted at him, approaching slow, hands unraveling the silk sash around my waist. “I was taking care of someone, dear. But don’t worry. You’ll get your full two hours, starting now.”

“Another customer?” He eyes mine, face already heating with pleasure, gaze seeking the skin showing as my _kimono_ fell open down the middle.

“Oh, no. You’re my only customer today, Kakashi.”

His eyes were positively drinking me in, but I didn’t let him reach for me when I closed the distance between us. “Down on your knees, my sweet.”

His flush went all the way up to his silver hair, and his mismatched eyes went up to mine, as he did what I asked without hesitation. One dark eye. One shot through with red. Rather like Itachi’s.

“You really are the most adorable bottom I’ve ever found.”

“What?”

“Never mind, my dear.” I played the silk sash in my hands through my fingers. “Hands above your head, now.”

No questions asked, he raised his hands for me. Humming another tune, I wound the sash around his wrists in knots I knew, oh so well, even Kakashi couldn’t get out of if he wanted to. Which, he didn’t, though. His eyes were already locked on my erect cock. Wanting that. Licking his lips in anticipation of it.

I laughed. “Oh no, my dear. Not that today.”

“But-”

I pushed him down on the pillows and seated myself on his waist. “I said no.”

He blinked up at me, and I snickered before bending to suck at one of his nipples. He whined under me.

“I-iruka!”

“Hum?”

“Don’t play! We don’t have that long.”

“We have long enough.”

I gripped his bound wrists with one hand and his cock with the other, going back to teasing him with my tongue all at the same time. He was squirming and begging for some time before I gave in and let go of his cock to give him a finger to suck. The man took it in like it was heaven and moaned around it.

“My sweet Kakashi,” I crooned at him. Then changed my seat just a bit, so I was still holding his wrists with one hand, but our cocks were laid side by side. With slow, deliberate movements, I began moving, sliding up and down on him, rubbing our erections together.

His groans turned needy, and I laughed with pleasure, my own breaths coming heavy. “You’re so good,” I cooed, taking my finger from his mouth.

Kakashi made a protesting sound, but I shushed him. “Now, now. None of that. Unless.” My finger, slick with his saliva, slid into his entrance, making him gasp. “Unless you don’t want me to fuck you.”

“Please, Iruka! F-fuck me!”

I kissed him, long and deep, my tongue tasting every part of his mouth. “Anything for you, my darling,” I assured, pulling back.

Some more slight prep, and I pushed inside with little resistance. Kakashi was well used to me and only panted in wanton desire. Desire I shared. We heaved out breath together, until my hand on his pulsing member brought him to orgasm and his clenching around me finished me off.

Sighing in contentment, I pulled out and dropped down to snuggle into his side. “Well, my dear, a little happier now?”

Kakashi nuzzled into my hair, smelling me and the flowers there. “You always know what I need, ‘Ruka. But.” He wiggled his fingers, still tied above his head. “Can you undo this?”

I smiled. “No! That would mean I’d only have to tie you up again after cuddling, and I don’t see the point in wasting energy.”

Kakashi’s flush came back. He swallowed. “Can I suck you off this time?”

A laugh broke out of me. Sitting up, I let my _kimono_ fall fully away, leaned down to kiss him, until he was breathless. “Alright, darling.”

When Kakashi’s time was up, I hugged him farewell, and went humming back to my room, feeling pleasantly limp and heavy, my clothes askew and hair mussed. I smiled languidly when I opened my door.

Itachi sat on my futon with his head leaned back against the wall and a scroll open over his legs. He’d changed into a pair of my pants and a shirt, both too big for him. His eyes were far away, as if he were pondering what he was reading.

“Hello, dear boy.”

His eyes caught me. “Iruka. Are you alright?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?” I blinked, then looked down at myself, recalling how disheveled I was. “Never mind my appearance! I’m a sight, but let me assure you, I had a good time.”

I crossed the room and sat beside him. Fingers drifting over the scroll on his lap.

“ _Icha, Icha_. What on earth are you reading this for?”

“I-” His eyes dropped, and he tightened his fingers in the cloth of my blankets.

“You really don’t know much about sex, do you?”

His eyes snapped up, his face red as the peonies I intended to place in his hair. I let out a sigh.

“If you’re looking to learn, I don’t recommend _Icha, Icha_. I only have it because Kakashi gave it to me.” My fingers flicked the scroll off his lap to tangle on the floor, then scooped it up and deposited it back on the shelf. “I can teach you better than a book, Itachi.”

The wrong words. Again.

He started crying. Soft. Soundless tears. And I pulled him against my chest, rocking him, murmuring nonsense in his ear until he stilled.

“You really don’t want this, do you?” I kissed his forehead. “It doesn’t make things much better, but you don’t have to worry about doing anything you don’t want to for some while.”

Itachi tilted his head just enough to see me. “I don’t understand, Iruka.”

“Here.” I moved him to kneel on the floor in front of me, and I began letting down his hair. Setting the flowers in his lap, one by one, so he could feel their large, fading blooms.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you were the most beautiful _oiran_ in the _Okiya_ , Itachi. Tsunade sees it too. With your looks, and the fact you’re a virgin, she can set a price on you far higher than even most of our customers will be willing and able to pay. It could be weeks or months before you have to do anything other than look lovely and sit with me in the window. And, by then, you might find things easier.”

 _By then, you might not even be here, if Anko is as deadly as she used to be. Hells, she’s probably_ more _deadly than I remember._

Itachi played at the flowers. I laid his hair over his shoulders, running my fingers through it to loosen and straighten it.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

He said nothing, but there were drops falling on the petals on his knees. “I will never find things easier, Iruka.”

“Oh, Itachi.”

I hugged him from behind, burying my face in his neck, for once. Lifting him up, I shifted him to rest against the bookshelf. A part of me suggested fucking him right there, and the rest rebelled against it. _He was Fugaku’s son! I’d cared for his brothers and sister like they were my own!_

Instead, I drew away. Undressing, I let my silk drop away and I pulled the crushed flowers from my hair to tumble and fall in a careless scatter over my floor. Then I went to the futon and turned down the blankets.

“Come here, Itachi. We’re both tired and things will look different in the morning. They always do.”

He hesitated, taking in my nakedness, then he gave in and came to me. In quietness, I covered us both with the blankets and just held him while he cried himself asleep, stridently ignoring the fact he was in bed with a prostitute. More than that. One who was bare to the skin and who had just spent two hours with a guest. Finally at rest in my arms, his face at my throat, head tucked under my chin, he looked so much like his brother, Shisui, when he had come to my bed seeking sleep, I felt part of my heart break.

That little, broken part snapped all the more with the realization his unhappiness was entirely my fault. I’d consigned him to his fate without ever thinking my heaven could be his hell. And there was nothing I could do about it. He was _in Konoha_ and it would be too dangerous to move him. He was stuck.

And I was a fool.

But, honestly. I had never seen a boy, or many girls, for that matter, so adverse to the unbridled ability to fuck ravenously without consequence.

“What am I going to do…”


	2. Samurai and Scattered Petals

The first thing I did upon Itachi’s waking in my arms was to kiss his forehead, smooth some hair back from his face, and say, “Good morning, darling.”

His brows scrunched, knotting together over half-confused red and black eyes. I wasn’t entirely pleased to see the amount of red there. It surprised and frightened me.

“Iruka?” His voice was thick around my name.

“Yes, dear,” I replied, running my hands up his spine, under the baggy shirt he wore. “I’m afraid, you’re still here with me.”

He nodded and, to my surprise, nuzzled into my neck, as though it were natural. I expected tears, but these were not forthcoming. He only lay breathing heavy exhalations against my throat.

When he pulled back, I was glad to see the red in his eyes had died back to the red veins threading through the obsidian. “What do we do now, Iruka?”

I considered him with his affected calm and shroud of melancholy. “Not much, my sweet,” I said, at last. “You see, everyone else is likely to still be asleep. Most in the _Okiya_ keep different hours than we do.”

He nodded again, a somber cast about his face I wished I could wipe away. Sighing, I tucked some more of his hair behind an ear. Then an idea struck me.

“Oh! I know! As it’s the case everyone’s still asleep, let’s take a bath before they wake up! That’d be nice, wouldn’t it, Itachi?”

“I would like a bath,” he admitted.

“Excellent!” I exclaimed, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Come along then, dear boy. The morning is ours for the taking.”

Humming, I threw on a thin robe for our walk to the baths, and chatted amicably at him the whole way, in the pale hope it’d liven his spirits. It didn’t, but he at least removed his clothes and got into the water with me without hesitation, and I thought that perhaps a hopeful sign. He even asked to wash my hair for me before I could utter a word.

“How lovely of you! Thank you, darling,” I assented with a smile.

I was drifting, half asleep in a warm daze under his ministrations, when he put a hand in the center of my back. “Iruka?”

“Hum? Yes?”

“What… is this scar from?” His fingers caressed the wide, slightly sunken, discolored patch between my shoulder blades. Shy and soft and delicate.

Fully awake all in an instant, I raised my head from where I’d pillowed it on my folded arms. _From saving your father’s life._ I could have said it but didn’t. “From a large piece of metal, Itachi. I thought I was going to die, only I didn’t.” Turning in the water, unconscious of how I brushed his skin in the process, I leaned back against the stone side of the bath and let my head rest on the edge. “It’s funny, I think that’s the closest I ever came to dying, and I’ve come close more times than I’d like to say.”

“Is that why you left your old life?”

“What? No. I left when I lost a few too many of the people I cared about.” Thoughtlessly, I grazed my knuckles down his face, over his jaw, my eyes distant, my thoughts on other, similar, faces.

_Sasuke. Shisui. Izume._ The names played in my mind. _My children._

“I thought I was done losing people when I left,” I said, holding his chin in my fingers. Only Anko’d shown up and proven to me how wrong I was.

“I’m sorry, Iruka.”

“What’s that?!” I said, snapping back to myself in an instant.

“I’m sorry I made you remember something unpleasant.”

“Here now, none of that, dear boy!” I exclaimed, waving away the statement. “It’s a waste of our morning. Never be afraid to ask me questions, Itachi. And don’t be sorry. Not with me, not ever.”

He blinked, surprised at my vehemence, but nodded and acknowledged my words. “Alright, Iruka.”

“Good boy.” I hugged him, a quick press of my chest to his, then turned him in the water. “Now come along, darling. I still need to do your hair before everyone else wakes up.”

We were in my room again before we heard the first stirrings of the _Okiya_ waking. And I was securing the last of the peonies in his hair before Tsunade saw fit to intrude on us. At least, the lady of the house had the sense to knock after my scolding her the previous day.

“Come in!” I called, fussing at a non-existent, stray lock of hair. When the woman stepped into my private space, I flashed her a devils take all grin. “Ah, Tsunade, darling! Just the wonderful monster I wanted to see! Splendid! How’s the headache this morning?”

“You’re a terror, Iruka,” she returned, but her eyes were all for Itachi, and there was no denying the stun there. And that was as it should be. Even more so than the first time she’d seen the boy dressed appropriately, Itachi was a vision in red silk.

“Oh, you tease but you love me, Tsunade. And you can’t say I don’t do good work.” I tamed another imagined, wayward hair and smoothed the crimson silk over his shoulders, letting my hands linger there, so I could lean into Itachi from behind and press my cheek to his. “We’re gorgeous, aren’t we? Red silk and peonies for our new one, and bronze silk and lilies for me. You couldn’t ask for a more glorious display for your window, Tsunade.”

The woman didn’t have to say anything to show her agreement. After so many years in the _Okiya_ , I knew the lady of the place well enough to read the wheels turning behind her raucous grin. “Eh! I could ask for a lot of things, Iruka, but I suppose I’ll have to settle for you.” She propped her hands on her hips and shook her head at me. “To the window with both of you. I leave everything to you, Iruka.”

“Excellent!” And, really, it was, if only the boy wouldn’t look so downtrodden. Through the whole conversation, he’d sat stiff, but pliant, under Tsunade’s scrutiny and my worshiping hands. Eyes lowered and hands clasped loose in his lap. Little more than a beautiful doll, trying at keeping his soul vacant. It was an expression I’d seen on too many faces going off to their executions. An expression I’d met on the features of other young men right before I’d swung my sword at their necks. False bravery. And I did not like it.

“Oh, dear,” I said, standing and taking both of his hands in mine, to pull him up after me. “It’s going to be alright, truly it is.”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes but nodded softly.

Sighing, I used a finger under his chin to bring his face up. “It is going to be alright, Itachi. I promise it is.” _Damn you, Anko!_ I thought. _Don’t make a liar of me!_

My young charge didn’t see my internal dialogue, though. He only looked at me with those deep wells of red and black passing as his eyes. “I’ll believe you, Iruka.” The murmured words stung worse than anything else he could have done. Not the half-hearted articulation of half-belief I’d expected, but the simple willingness to believe what I’d said would be so because I’d said it.

“Come along now,” was all I returned, but it was that moment I began to suspect I’d do anything for the boy tagging alone at the end of my arm.

_Fuck, Itachi! You’re making me love you, and you shouldn’t…_

I led him through the _Okiya_ , around the partition walling off the entrance and lounge area, and to the screen serving as a backdrop and divider for the house’s window box. “Here, Itachi,” I said, helping him slip past the screen.

The space where we stood was narrow, but private, bathed in mellow light flooding in through the high glass and over the wide window ledge. This platform was padded and strewn with silk and pillows, like the common rooms. Itachi took it all in, face unchanging.

“What happens now, Iruka?” he asked. “What do I need to do?”

I knelt on the ledge and tugged him into the pillows with me. When I was settled, I urged him down gently, so his head rested in my lap and his legs lay spread out. “Nothing, dear boy. Nothing but lay there and listen to me.” I placed a hand on his hair and the other on his shoulder. “There’s a lot I need to tell you.”

“To… tell me?”

“Yes, darling.” I let my fingers play over his hair, tender, but careful not to dismantle the artful design of my creation. “As I said, Tsunade’s set such a high price on you, it’ll be a long time before someone comes a long who can afford you. But that doesn’t mean they won’t spend time with you.”

“Time?” He stirred, restless, in my lap, and turned to look up at me. His face had taken on a pallor, while the threads of red in his eyes had expanded.

“It’s nothing to worry about, love!” I assured. “I promise you it isn’t. For a small price, the _Okiya’s_ guests will be able to speak with you, while you serve them tea or sake, or amuse them playing _shogi_. Nothing more. It’s a way for them to see if… They want to pay for you. They’ll want to see how smart and elegant you are, and I want you to show them. I want you to prove to each and every one of them, especially that _Oni_ , Tsunade, just how intelligent and beautiful you are.”

A finger under his chin, though I didn’t need to tilt his face to see the sorrow there. “Can you do that for me, Itachi?”

“I don’t know how to play _shogi_ ,” he murmured.

“I teach you, dear boy.”

His eyes misted and stared up at me, yet, their glance was far away. “I’ll do what you want, Iruka.”

“That’s a good boy,” I said, running a finger down his face. Sighing, I nudged him until he lay facing the window again. “Now, listen close.” My voice turned firm, hard around the edges. “They will try to touch you, your hands, your face, your hair, but they won’t dare to do more than that. Not in Tsunade’s house, and definitely not with me nearby. And I _will_ be nearby, Itachi. Tsunade had left you in my care, and that means I’ll be beside you through all of it.”

Another restless shifting in my lap, but he didn’t try to look at me this time. “Alright, Iruka.” The words were low and thick, but not with tears. With weariness. Though he had slept deeply and long, he sounded like he had not seen a bed in days. And that might have been close enough to the truth. With the walk into _Konoha_ and the stress of his days before and since, the boy had a right to be tired.

Sighing, I let my fingers flutter over his raven locks. “Rest, Itachi. There’s nothing to fear, and nothing you need to do now. Nothing but be here with me.”

He made no reply, but cuddled his face further into my lap, drawing his legs close, so he curled to me, taking comfort in my nearness. An unidentifiable lump of silk, once more. A moment and his body relaxed, going slack over me, signaling he’d fallen into sleep.

I let him, my fingers continuing to stroke and offer reassurance to him in unconsciousness. He slept for hours, while people passed by, alternatively paying us no mind and stopping to glance in at us. I smiled at them all. A bronze angel presiding over the repose of a delicate beauty.

In truth, I expected Itachi’s time to be requested that day, but it wasn’t. And it was just as well. The boy walked in a daze the remainder of the day and didn’t seem to truly wake until the next morning. He’d shared my bed again and he woke early with me. Together we bathed before I brought him back to my room, dressed him, fixed his hair, and began introducing him to the tea ceremony and _shogi_ ; unknowingly settling the pattern for the days that followed.

However late into the night we worked, I always found him awake with me in the dawn, and those morning hours were ours. Once dressed, I would give him his lesson before allowing us to wander the confines of our narrow existence. Itachi seemed to take some slight pleasure in the quiet of the empty rooms, and the scent of the flowers he helped me lay out. At times, I would find him humming softly one of my songs, his face detached and his fingers trailing in the petals he held.

I thought it a good sign, but not enough. The boy never smiled. Never laughed. Though, he would often stare off at nothing in a worrisome way. If he were not so compliant in everything and did not clearly show a desire to keep living, I would have been afraid for his life.

Each day, watching my charge’s melancholy grow, I internally cursed Anko to every hell I was familiar with for putting us both in the damnable situation. The boy would have been happier never knowing his true heritage. Yet, I couldn’t deny, as different from the man as he was, the boy had his father’s will. And his wit. And both kept him alive.

Itachi learned quickly. He was quiet and removed, but his mind was sharp and observant, and he enjoyed the learning, as much as he enjoyed anything in the _Okiya_. I had asked him to show the guests how intelligent he was, and he did so from the first. They all fell in love with him in the space of hours. He impressed them with his looks, captivated them with his grace, and wooed them with his words.

It wasn’t uncommon for the boy to be requested three or four times in a day. For nothing more than the pleasure of having him pore tea, play _shogi_ , and talk. To talk especially.

Several guests requested my young raven repeatedly, intrigued by his discourses on every topic they attempted to stomp him with. Itachi rarely was found lacking on any matter under discussion, and the few times he was, he would go to my collection of books, once we were alone for the night, and remedy his gap in knowledge. So, the next time the guest arrived, he was prepared.

He stunned them all.

And they loved him for it.

Especially, a certain young man, hardly older than Itachi himself, with a high, messy brown ponytail, dark brown eyes, like stained wood, and silver studs in his ears. This particular guest was hauled in by several other, overeager swordsmen one night, and it was clear he would have rather been somewhere else. His serious face hard and unreadable. At least, until he’d sat with Itachi a few minutes and found himself both losing a game of _shogi_ and a conversation to the raven across from him. After that, it was clear he was interested, and he kept coming back.

I did not like the fact. Or him. I was supposed to be keeping Itachi away from the Nara, not sitting sedately to the side while one contemplated fucking him. But the Nara was smitten and telling him to beat it before I beat him would only make matters worse.

So, I did the same as if he were any of the other guest enamored with Itachi. Nothing. But watch.

Which was well enough, I decided. In some way, Itachi seemed to enjoy these dalliances. Apart from the subtle touches applied to his person, which he bore with a kind of bruised dignity. No, the guests’ attentions to his body he did not like, but their company he minded not at all. Watching him and considering his every movement, I realized this was because the boy didn’t see the men and women fawning over him as people deciding whether or not they wanted to pay a small fortune to fuck him, or even individuals, but as challenges he had to overcome.

This observation meant less to me than the half perplexed, dissatisfied expressions on the faces of the guests when they left the _Okiya_. Itachi’s indifferent conquering of each of them in such an offhand manner left them wanting. _Fucking wanting him!_ The boy was a little too good for his own good and he didn’t know it.

And, naturally, Anko was nowhere to be found. While I sat and watched and knew it wouldn’t be long before one of Itachi’s admirers found the coin to pay for him, the woman didn’t even see fit to send me word of _anything_!

I decided I really would wring her neck as the days pasted. All the more because it was clear how unhappy the boy remained, despite his few pleasures.

There were no more fits of crying, but that didn’t mean I didn’t hear him weeping at night, when he thought I was asleep. Because, though Itachi had his own room, he seldom used it. If the boy did not come directly to my room with me, after we were released from our duties to the _Okiya_ , he would pad into it shortly following this release, dressed in simple cotton, his hair falling loose down his back, or creep into my bed in the dark, like a child who has had an unpleasant dream. Like Shisui in Fugaku’s house.

I did not question it, did not tell the young thing to go back to his own bed. Merely folded back the covers for him and welcomed him to my most personal space, letting him press to my naked body for the reassurance of it. Yet, I did not like it.

Looking at him laying there, his hair in his face, his breathing alternatively shallow or ragged, depending on the dream he was wrapped in, my only comfort was the fact the boy did not require ropes to sleep, as his elder brother had. Though, I could not deny of all Fugaku’s children, Itachi reminded me most of Shisui. Both were strong, both sure in their resolve, yet, both had a kind of delicacy about them.

Shisui had needed to give up control, to submit, in order to find a measure of peace. But I did not know what Itachi needed. Holding him after he’d cried himself to sleep, I cursed myself for it. If I’d known what he needed, I would have gladly given it to him. But all I could do was continue caring for him, continue offering him kindness and the security of my bed, continue praying to all the gods Anko would settle the Nara, so she could come claim the boy and take him back to his father, where he belonged. Because he certainly did not belong with me.

This was never more apparent then during the times I placed Itachi before me on his knees and instructed him in the ways of physical pleasure. The times he knelt with downcast eyes and flushed face, his hands resting on his thighs, his fingers curling around the silk of his _kimono_. Crushing it. The boy had no desire to learn such things and I did not want to teach him. But I could not leave him ignorant. Not with the notion Anko wouldn’t come in time to collect him and remedy my stupid mistake.

Still, I hoped. I told myself the mutually unwanted lessons were just a precaution and surely Anko would burst in at any time, with her gods be damned smile, to whisk Itachi off and leave me to my quiet, careless existence.

Conflicted or not, I should have expected the outcome when it came. Though I could not have anticipated the how of it. Trust Kakashi to make a mess of something I’d already put out of order.

Itachi had been with me just short of a month. Anko was nowhere to be found. And I was not liking the news the _Okiya’s_ guests unconsciously let slip. There was trouble in _Konoha_. Madara, the city’s lord, was in a mind to quill it. Only, if the talk was to be believed, the red-eyed _samurai_ had taken a crossbow bolt to the hip for his efforts.

This only add to my unease and anxiety.

All this together, it was no wonder I was both surprised and exhilarated to see Kakashi standing outside the window one day. With my duties as Itachi’s patron protector, I had been relieved of my other responsibilities to the _Okiya_ and I had not had sex since the last time Kakashi had come. Perhaps only adding to my stress, as I had been in the _Okiya_ a long time and was used to several encounters a day.

Kakashi, my adorable, silver-haired bottom, was leaning into another, larger _samurai_ , who oddly resembled a shark on land. But my growing hard on wouldn’t let me concern myself with that. If Kakashi was there, Tsunade would relieve Itachi of work, until the _samurai_ had his fill. Or, at least, until his money ran out. After all, Kakashi only ever asked for me and he paid in gold.

What else was to be expected of Madara’s bastard half-brother? He might not have as much coin as his lord elder brother, but he had enough, and Tsunade liked it and the ability to say she served the family of _Konoha’s_ lord.

It didn’t matter to me _who_ Kakashi was related to. I was just… _excited_ to see him. In more ways than one. That single sight of my favorite customer and I was tugging at Itachi’s shoulder, pointing out the window, and muttering in his ear, almost squeaking, all the things I intended to do with the man out on the road. Despite how it made the boy’s face flush as crimson as the peonies in his hair.

My glee was short lived. Kakashi took care of the arrangements for both himself and his companion. The sufferable man requested a full night with me, for himself, and a full night with Itachi, for his fellow _samurai_ , leaving no doubt on whose tab the bill was to be placed. Leaning on the counter with one arm, he shot an impish grin at Tsunade. “Just charge it to my dear brother, Tsunade! Madara is paying for everything tonight.”

The lady of the _Okiya_ was more than happy to oblige, but there was not a thing I could do. Itachi stood stiff for a moment, then seemed to sag. Closing in on himself, even as Kakashi winked at his companion and called, cheerily, “See you tomorrow, Kisame!”

Thoughts twining in my mind, I feigned eagerness, taking my oh so annoying, silver-haired imbecile’s arm, and pulling him down the corridor. Once we were in a room and the door was slid shut behind us, I rounded on the man, my hands gripping his upper arms.

“What’s your friend going to do with my Itachi, Kakashi?”

The man’s face was blank, staring at me in utter non-understanding. “What any man would do with an _oiran_.”

I groaned, my head falling forward and my hands tightening on his arms. “That’s not what I meant! Is that- That shark going to be good to the boy?”

He blinked at me. “Kisame? Of course, he is. He fell head over heels in love with the raven the moment he laid eyes on him.”

“Gods, Kakashi!” I exclaimed, releasing him and throwing my hands in the air. “Lust and love are not the same thing!”

I spun away from him, going for the door.

“Where are you going?” he yipped, almost whined. His hand touched my back, below my shoulder.

Whirling, bronze silk floating around me, I glared at the startled man. “I’m going to go kill your friend if he does _anything_ to make my boy cry.”

I moved to turn again, but my name stopped me.

“Iruka.” Kakashi stepped to do what maybe _he_ didn’t know. I wasn’t in the mood.

“You stay!” I commanded, pushing him down with my fingertips.

Kakashi blinked up at me and I had to feel a bit sorry for my favorite. He was used to doing what I told him, but he had never heard me talk like this before. Sorry or not, I had no time to mind him.

I left him in the room and glided down the corridor in a furious rustle of silk. “Iruka? Where are you going?” Tsunade sounded irritated. I cast her a glance and the woman spun on her heel, deciding she really _didn’t_ care where I was going, even as I decided I really _was_ going to kill the _samurai_ called Kisame if he dared to do anything to make Itachi cry. Kill him with his own _katana_ if necessary. It would require me to leave my life at the _Okiya_ , but I determined I would deal with that. And Anko could be damned and just _try_ to find us. Let her stew for putting me in this situation.

Halfway down the corridor, I came to what I wanted. Tsunade took good care of her girls and boys, and her house was designed with a passage behind the common rooms, so the lady of the house could monitor questionable guests and watch over her _oiran_. I pressed a carved flower on the wall, slipped into the narrow passage that slid open, and bustled along the backside of the common rooms, until I came to the one I’d seen Itachi escort the large, gray-skinned _samurai_ into.

The first thing I heard was a whimpered sound, something choked and shuddering. Half sobbing. Anger flared in me. An anger I hadn’t felt since I’d last held a sword. Bloodlust. Killing instinct.

My fingers pushed aside a thin slat, allowing me to peer through into a room strewn with pillows and silk. The first thing I saw was Itachi. On his back. With tears in his eyes and the other man’s finger in him. My boy’s face was so pale the blue of his veins stood out under his skin.

A blindness settled over me. A blindness which stripped all away except the _samurai_ and the movements I would need to accomplish to end his life.

What saved him was simple. The man eased his finger out of Itachi and sat back from him. “You’ve never done this before,” the shark _samurai_ said.

Itachi thrashed his head from side to side on the silk and pillows. “S-sorry. I’m sorry,” he managed.

“How?” the _samurai_ grunted.

As if realizing the other man wasn’t going to touch him again, my young raven sat up, clutching his mussed silk robe closed over his bare chest. His head hung low, showcasing the artful design I’d worked into his hair. Voice soft, he repeated to the _samurai_ the tale he’d told to me. Minus the name of the man his family had come in debt to. Much to my relief.

“Shit,” the large, gray-skinned man cursed at the conclusion.

“I’m sorry. I-” Itachi’s fingers loosened, letting his _kimono_ fall open again. “I can do what you want. I can try to be still.”

My hands balled into fists. Still. My poor boy. Though my outright desire to kill Kakashi’s friend had slackened, I was debating what I should and could risk doing, short of killing the _samurai_.

A debate ended by another grunt from the man. He shook his head and turned away, as if afraid to keep looking at the inviting sight before him. “Don’t bother. I have no interest in fucking someone who isn’t going to enjoy it.”

Itachi was silent a moment. “So, you only want-” His voice broke over the words, as it always did when he attempted to speak of the act. “To fuck me if I want to be fucked.”

“Yes,” the _samurai_ grumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

_That_ surprised me. But what surprised me more was my lovely, sexually timid raven.

He moved to kneel behind the larger man and draped his arms around him. The boy’s face was serious and determined. His fingers skimming tentatively over the gray-skinned man’s thighs.

“What are you doing?” the _samurai_ snapped.

“What do you think? Itachi’s voice was a little ragged.

“Don’t.”

The boy didn’t listen to the mandate, his fingers grazing the shark man’s erection.

“Don’t!” The _samurai_ gripped Itachi’s wrist and whipped around to face him. “Do you want mt to ravage you? Keeping myself in check isn’t easy.”

Itachi winced at the pressure applied to his wrist and my teeth clenched, but then his face changed, and I blinked. I’d seen the grace in the boy from the first, but, in the moment, disheveled as he was, I saw the nobility of his bloodline in his slight frame. His eyes were dark and steady and clear, and he radiated pride and poise and deep, quiet dignity.

“Why should I wait for the next man with the coin to pay to fuck me to walk in here? I choose you. I choose you because you gave me a choice. Don’t take that away from me.”

The larger man let go of my raven’s wrist and Itachi cradled the abused appendage in his lap. But his head was up, and he met the _samurai’s_ eyes with no sign of disgust toward the sight those eyes took in. Gray skin and pointed teeth.

As if that decisive look unlocked something in the shark like man, he grunted and lunged forward, shoving Itachi into the pillows with his weight. My boy went willingly, wrapping his legs around the other man’s waist.

“You’re sure about this?” The words were a rumble.

Itachi’s hand traced over the chest above him, up under the shirt the _samurai_ wore. “What’s your name?”

“Kisame.”

“I’m Itachi. I want you to fuck me, Kisame.” No tripping over the profanity that time.

The _samurai_ growled and ripped off the shirt he wore. Then he was bending over my boy’s neck, as he tugged at the silk I’d wrapped the young thing in.

Itachi was panting in pleasure, hands linked behind the larger man’s neck, ankles in the small of his back. Rutting against the man as if he couldn’t find enough friction.

I didn’t need to see any more. Body relaxed, but with a tingling exhilaration prickling through my limbs, I slid the slat closed and started away. Feet whispering so low I couldn’t even hear the sound.

Indeed, “K-kisame…” was the last I heard. My boy begging for more.

I was practically bouncing when I stepped back into the corridor. Itachi, it seemed, would be fine. Faced with what he’d feared, the boy had found his confidence.

My lips were smiling, but my heart was throbbing, when I slid open the door to the common room where Kakashi waited. “Hello, darling,” I said, fingers brushing his face.

The man blinked his mitch-matched eyes at me. He’d stayed where I had left him and seemed nervous at my return.

“Iruka?” he asked, uncertainly.

“I didn’t kill your friend, my sweet one,” I reassured. “He’s taking good care of my boy, and now, I’m going to take _good_ care of you, Kakashi.” My grin turned wicked, practically evil, and I pushed him all the way down into a drift of pillows. In a breath, I was down with him, crawling on him. Up his toned frame. “In fact, darling,” I cooed, “I’m going to pay you interest for making you wait.”

Kakashi’s eyes had gone round, he was squirming under me, and I could feel the hardness of him pressing up against my thigh, as I straddled him. I bit my lip, looking down at this display. My favorite wiggling under me. It, and the feel of Kakashi’s hard on against me after so long _not_ having sex, woke a hunger in me which beat right alongside that heated exhilaration pulsing and tingling under my skin.

I let out a groan, worrying my lip further. “You feel so good, and I’m going to make _you_ feel good too, love. So good.”

Without waiting for a response, Kakashi didn’t seem to be able to give, beyond a wide-eyed squeak, I shucked off my _kimono_ , pulling it off my shoulders and down over my hips. Leaving me bare across my silver-haired _samurai’s_ waist.

Meeting his eyes, I sucked two fingers into my mouth. Slowly, with deliberate movements of my tongue, I lathered them with saliva and, with my evil smirk not slipping, holding his attention all the while, I slid them out of my mouth, reached behind myself, and pressed them into myself. Past that tight rim of muscle. And _that_ felt good. Gods above, that was an amazing feeling, mixed with the heady rush of excitement coursing through my veins.

The high was so intense, I moaned at my own touch, stiffening and back arching up all at the same time. My eyes slipping closed, I worked my fingers in and out, stretching myself open.

“I- Iruka? What… What are you doing?” Kakashi’s voice was something of a thick squawk, but if the hardness of him through his pants was any indication, he was enjoying the show.

I glanced happily down at the wreck below me and saw Kakashi was coming apart quite nicely without even having been touched. He was short of breath, his already wide eyes had taken over much of a face, which had gone a delightful shade of crimson, his hands were gripping the pillows, as if for dear life, and the bulge in his pants…

Well, that would have to be taken care of.

“Doing?” I purred, the nimble fingers of one hand unfastening Kakashi’s pants, while those of the other continued to prep my own hole. “I’m getting ready to fuck you, darling.”

My poor, overwrought _samurai_ let out a yelp when I palmed his erection, and clenched his eyes shut. I chuckled at the sight and leaned in to place a kiss on his forehead, even as I slid my fingers out of myself.

“Iruka…” Kakashi moaned under me, but I hardly noticed. Heart hammering blood through my ears, so loud I could hear nothing else, I braced a hand on his flat stomach, aligned him with me using the other hand, and simply sank down onto him.

The sensation of being full was glorious and I bent double over Kakashi’s prone form, a needy sound erupting out of me. Then my body was straightening and aching on its own, moving up and down in a punishing rhythm, while my fingers scratched at whatever naked skin they could find.

The man beneath me lasted little more than moments before his release hit and he was arching, attempting to muffle a fevered scream with an arm thrown across his face. I held out slightly longer, continuing to ride him until he was whimpering, and I used a hand to stroke myself to completion.

It wasn’t until I’d blinked a few times to clear my vision and shook my head a bit to try relieving the ringing in my ears, I realized just how aggressive I’d been. Kakashi was used to my being in control, liked it even, but I’d never just shoved him down and rode him into the floor before. I wouldn’t have done it this instance either, except-

Except, for the first time in nearly twenty years, I’d been running on a battle high. I’d been set to actually kill, to feel someone’s blood on my hands and watch them die without a drop of remorse in my system. Oh sure, I’d helped Tsunade evict a few unruly guests through the years but punting a drunk prick out on his ass was far different from what I’d been prepared to do.

When I’d left Fugaku and my old life behind, I’d told myself I was done with killing. I’d put my sword away and let my hands turn to flowers and silk, but…

But my blood had been up, and I hadn’t been thinking. I cursed myself. The relief of not having to kill was a palpable weight on my limbs, even as a sickness at what I’d done churned through me.

Worriedly, I turned my glance down to Kakashi. He was staring up at me, shell-shocked, with one dark eye and one that’d gone half red. His gaze both perplexed and full of complete adoration. The later made me relax and quirk a small smile.

My partner, it seemed, had enjoyed himself quite thoroughly.

“Are you alright, darling?” I questioned, smoothing a gentle hand over the grooves I’d dug in his stomach.

Kakashi bobbed his head up and down against the floor, apparently too overcome to speak for a moment. But only a moment.

“’R-ruka? W- What?” He dissolved into sputters, which only made me chuckle at his utter fluster. It was obvious Kakashi had never thought he could be so totally wrecked with his cock up someone else’s ass. But then, he’d never fucked Anko. Sleeping with that woman was like fucking a tsunami. There was never any doubt who was in control the whole time, and you were never sure what position you’d find yourself in after it was over.

The thought pushed a disgruntled sound up my throat, as I extracted Kakashi from out of me. Remembering Anko, I found, was even less pleasant than it had been before she’d shown up in my life again.

“Kakashi,” I asked, my forehead creased, a frown pulling down my lips, “you do enjoy what we do together, don’t you?”

“What?!” Well, the man had found his voice again. He’d practically yelped the word, sitting up to be at eye level with me. “You know I do, ‘Ruka.”

I found myself smiling at the other man from behind my hand. I couldn’t help it. Kakashi’s face was all flushed pink up to his silver hair and his unmatched eyes were all earnest affection.

“Never mind it, dear, never mind. You wouldn’t keep coming back if you didn’t.”

Another bobbing nod, followed by a thick swallow, as Kakashi’s gaze dipped down to my crotch, then shot back up to my face.

“Iruka? Can we… Can we do that again?”

I laughed lightly, moving to crawl into him and press a hand to his chest, while I dropped kisses on his neck. “Of course, darling. As often as you like.”

As often as Kakashi liked proved to be so many sessions, over the space of hours, I was more than sore by the time the silver-haired man hit his point of exhaustion and cuddled against me to sleep. His nose at my neck.

I didn’t mind it. The ache was a more than acceptable trade for not having to kill Kakashi’s fellow _samurai_. And, truth be told, I’d enjoyed every ride Kakashi had requested.

Humming a drowsy tune, I pulled the other man closer to my chest and drifted off to sleep with the sound of his content breathing in my ear.

Tired as I was, I still woke before Kakashi. I was humming another tune and trying to gather my hair into some semblance of order by the time my delightful bottom turned over with a groan and opened his eyes.

“Good morning, darling,” I said with a smile. Then I gave him a quick farewell fuck and escorted him and his shark like companion to the door.

Standing leaning on the partition between the common rooms and the lounge area with my arms and ankles crossed, I couldn’t help but smirk, even as I offered a, “Bye-bye now,” to my departing favorite. Kakashi had attached himself to his fellow _samurai_ and was regaling him with tales of our night together. While Kakashi was all a glow, the larger man looked like he would very much enjoy squashing the infuriating, silver-haired thing beside him, if it weren’t for the fact Kakashi was Madara’s dear bastard brother.

By the time they were out of sight, I was doubled over, holding back peels of laughter behind my fingers. When I finally stopped shaking with it, I stretched, took a breath, and smoothed my hands over my creased and wrinkled silk before sashaying down the corridor in search of Itachi. As my young raven hadn’t come out with Kisame, I assumed he was still in the common room and I hoped, in my glee, to get the boy to regale _me_ with tales of _his_ night.

Honestly, things had worked out much better than I’d dared hope, and I reminded myself to be extra nice to Kakashi the next time he came, as well.

Happily humming, I slid open the door and smiled at Itachi. “Hello, dear boy.”

I’d expected to find my charge tangled up with silk, face buried in a pillow his hands clutched to him, too pleasantly achy and thoroughly fucked to want to move. I expected to nudge him to bathe and then sleep a few hours, after some storytelling, of course, but none of my expectations were met.

Itachi was not lying down and he was far from a dreamy, sluggish mess. The boy knelt in the center of the rather wrecked room, scented heavily of sex. His _kimono_ was draped over him, in something resembling mussed elegance, and his hair hung sheer down his back and tumbled over his shoulders. His face resembled shock and his eyes were blank.

I registered this in the space between my greeting and Itachi blinking and raising his head to see me. “I-ruka.” The word was thick and drawn out and, as if seeing me had released the restraints on whatever control he had, as soon as it was uttered, the boy broke into a storm of weeping he tried to muffle in his hands.

My instincts moved me before I could think. “Itachi!” Crying his name, I dropped and slid through the scatter of pillows to his side, catching his body as it seemed to fold in on itself. “Whatever is the matter?!”

“He’s gone!” that choked voice wailed against my chest.

“Yes, yes,” I agreed, rubbing a hand down his back. “Gone with my Kakashi.”

“K-kisame!”

The young thing was shaking so I thought he’d come apart, his sobs so intent it was clear he wasn’t getting _air_. All the while he hitched out little, broken sentences revolving around the shark _samurai_ being gone. Which made no sense. _Of course_ , he was _gone_. It wasn’t as though he could _stay_ , and he’d never had any _intention_ of doing so.

But these petty concerns lacked importance the moment I took his face in the fingers of my free hand and tilted his face up, so I could see it. His expression was crumbled, but it was his eyes… Those odd, unheard of eyes, which set my heart to beating irregular stutters in my chest. Those rarified eyes were three quarters red, the crimson in them spilling into the black in a rising tide.

_Oh gods, no. Not now. I can’t let this happen now!_

The thoughts crashed through my mind and I scooped the boy into my arms. His delicate frame was far too light, as though he weighed nothing at all, and his bones stood out stark under my hands. As though he were a bird. Nothing but bright plumage and fragile bone, easily broken.

This image wasn’t a pleasant one, and I wondered where my good mood had gone so suddenly.

_I should have killed that fucking fish!_

But I didn’t express _that_ thought aloud. “I have you, Itachi,” I soothed, shoving the door further open with my foot and whisking him out of the room. “Everything’s going to be alright, I swear it is.”

I brought him to my private room, where I set him on my bed. “Stay here, darling,” I instructed, pushing some clinging hair off his wet cheek. “I’m going to fetch you something.”

Then I was pelting back down the corridor, one hand gripping my fluttering _kimono_ to keep it clear of my feet and cursing all the while.

“Iruka?” Tsunade’s questioning voice was sleepy and half-exasperated. All I could think was, what luck, just the lush I needed.

Snagging the front of her shirt, I tugged her to me, our bodies pressed flush together, our faces breathes apart. “Get me wine and get it now.” Then I near tossed her back, to continue my sprint.

Tsunade kept a well-stocked medical closet in the private part of the _Okiya_ , for many reasons. Once inside the small room, it was easy to find the powder I wanted. Not bothering to close the door again, I turned and began my dash back to my room.

The lady of the _Okiya_ met me halfway. She had a full bottle of heavy, red wine and, when she saw the color of the small, paper packet in my hand, she thrust the thing at me and rushed away. Deciding she didn’t want to know what I was about after all.

_That_ was just as well. I would have only shouted at her and told her to leave matters to me.

Itachi was as I’d left him. Weeping on my bed. I snagged a forgotten cup from off my table and knelt on the bed beside him. With daft hands, I emptied the contents of the packet into the stoneware cup and poured wine over it.

“Here, dear boy,” I said, sliding an arm under his shoulders and supporting him, as I placed the mixture in his hands. “Drink all of this. It will taste awful, but it’ll make you feel better.”

The young thing’s eyes were blown wide, and very nearly completely red. His tears and rending sobs hadn’t slackened in my absence, and I worried, with the difficulty he was having just _breathing_ , he might not be able to follow my advice. But I should never have underestimated the determination of Fugaku’s son, or apparently, his trust in me.

Itachi brought the cup to his lips and, despite gagging around the bitter, cloying flavor of the powder and the usual, thick, off-sweet taste of wine, he didn’t relish on a normal day, he managed to swallow all of what I’d given him. His tears stopped almost immediately. The slender fingers holding the cup twitched and the empty container dropped from the nerveless things to clatter on the floor. Spilling residual droplets like blood.

“I- Iruka… W-what did you give me?” The words slurred out of the boy, as he fell back, limply, against my chest. His whole body loose. Like all the will or animation had gone out of him.

With gentle, but sure, movements, I slipped out from under him and laid his unresisting body out on my bed. Brushing more hair from his face, I sighed.

“A strong sedative, Itachi. On its own, it would be enough to make you tired and languid for the rest of the day. Mixed with wine, it’ll make it hard for you to move or keep awake the rest of today. Maybe tomorrow, as well. At the least, you’ll feel extremely mellow and drowsy even then.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” The words were hardly more than murmur, but the look he gave me was accusatory.

“I’m sorry, Itachi. You can be angry with me when you wake up. For now…” For now, at least, his eyes were black again. The red in them having shrunk back to little more than threads in the obsidian. _For now, I do what I have to do to protect you._ I wanted to speak the words, but I didn’t. Instead, continuing, “For now, let’s have a look at you.”

The moment I had his _kimono_ off I was moaning. His skin was mottled with bruises and bite marks, especially around his neck and shoulders and over his back. It looked as though the _samurai_ had made a toy of him.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry, Itachi. If I’d known, I’d never have let him touch you.”

_I would have killed him!_

But he was shaking his head against the numbing effects of the sedative and a few sluggish tears crawled out of his eyes. “I… wanted him to. I left… as many marks on him as he left on me.”

“Oh, my dear boy,” I said, my knuckles scraping over his jaw.

Though his words relieved my fright the shark man had savaged him, they hurt worse. As experienced as I was in sex, I knew there were only a few reasons to mark a partner like that, and Itachi wasn’t the perversely possessive type. On the contrary, looking down at Itachi’s increasingly less consciences form and remembering the words I’d overheard him say, _I choose you. I choose you because you gave me a choice_ , I knew the boy had felt himself personally claimed with the first bite and had wanted to claim the gray-skinned man right back. Claim him as that one he so desperately wanted to be with his whole life.

I’d been a fool to think differently, just because he’d gone willingly into sex.

But there was nothing I could do about the fact. Nothing but care for more immediate, physical concerns.

“Here, darling. Itachi,” I said, gently shaking his shoulder, until his eyes fluttered open. Midnight and oh so tired. “Love bites might be all well and good, but they need to be tended to after. A bath will be a good start toward that, and it’ll ease your muscles. You’re sure to ache, when you can feel anything again.”

I had to carry him to the bathes and then hold his head above water while I bathed him, as Itachi proved to be only semi-ware through the whole affair. Drifting and murmuring intelligible things, beyond the oft repeated name of his _samurai_.

_Kisame._

The desperation in that name bothered me more than the need to keep a slippery, unclothed body afloat. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to tend to an ill or injured comrade in this fashion. I _knew_ how to manage that. Though I tried not to think on it long. What I _didn’t_ know was what I was going to do with Itachi.

When we were both clean, I carried him back to my bed and applied salves and poultices to his bites. By the time I was through, the boy was deeply asleep and breathing evenly. Hair fanned about his head and lips softly parted. All I could do was sit and ponder him and how much I’d already failed to protect him.

Of course, it would be that moment Tsunade choose to gently knock on my door and poke her head into my room.

“Iruka?” she questioned.

I glanced at her and she blanched, either because I’d forgotten, until then, I was still nude, or at the amount of white cream spread over Itachi’s bruised flesh, I couldn’t tell which.

“What on earth do you want, Tsunade?” I snapped.

She opened her mouth to reply and I snapped again. “There’s absolutely nothing you can do here, Tsunade, so you might as well leave.”

The lady of the house decided it was in her best interest to do just that. Leaving me alone with my charge, where I remained the rest of the day. I managed to get some food into him, and, more importantly, some liquids. But, primarily, Itachi just slept and I just sat. Watching him. Knowing just how much of a mess I was in.

Though it had seemed a marvelous idea to kill the blasted _samurai_ and whisk Itachi out of the _Okiya_ when I was in a half-mad, battle-hungry mood, calm, I had to admit it would have been the worst possible thing I could have done. Just as taking Itachi out of the _Okiya_ in the aftermath of Kakashi and Kisame’s visit would be the worst possible thing I could do.

My initial thought had been the correct one. We were in _Konoha_ and the Nara were everywhere, one of them often even in the _Okiya_ and keen on Itachi, and it would be too dangerous to move the boy. I was lucky to have killed the red fire in his eyes. That ancestral mark of his noble heritage would have got him killed if it were noticed. A worrisome thing, considering the mess had proven Itachi had the strongest eyes of all his siblings, aside from Shisui. Not even Fugaku had eyes like that… I’d only seen so deep a red one other place, and I didn’t want to think about that. I still had enough scars to remind me of _that_.

No, putting those thoughts aside, I knew we would have to stay to preserve the boy’s life. But I wasn’t sure if that preservation of existence would put to death something else in him. Because it would deprive him of that thing he required for actual _life_.

My fingers traced over his cheekbones, light as pollen on the breeze. My fuck up had shown me another thing I’d been oblivious to, an undeniably and unbearably clear thing. Really, just a simple matter of Itachi’s nature thrust into my hands, at last, by the unlooked-for advent of the _samurai_ Kisame. I’d wondered, rather stupidly, what it was Itachi need. In fact, wondered why he’d decided to choose the man to fuck him when he could have denied him and had any other of his admirers. After all, what had been different about the gray-skinned _samurai_? The answer was an ordinary one. Kisame had _cared_. The man had cared and seen Itachi as a person, instead of a body to fuck.

Such simplicity. The thing Itachi needed to survive, the thing I’d provided, unthinkingly, since the moment we’d met, and so won his love, was caring. The thing the boy required to live and find some small amount of peace, as Shisui had required ropes, was caring. The thing Itachi required to give himself so personally to another, as he had to Kisame, was caring.

But that was a thing most of the guests of the _Okiya_ could not give.

And their thoughtlessness would kill him.

Oh, not his body, but the light behind those powerful eyes. That would die if Itachi stayed in my heaven too long. And that was my fault.

When darkness came, I climbed into bed beside my young one and held him through the night. Soft weeping woke me with first light. Itachi was awake and weeping into my pillows, while he shivered in my arms.

“It’s alright, dear boy. Everything’s alright,” I soothed, pressing kisses to the back of his neck.

He didn’t agree, but he didn’t protest, either. Eventually, quieting and slipping back into sleep for a while. After a few similar repetitions of this, it was clear the main effects of the sedative had worn off and Itachi was, for most intents and purposes, awake.

When I’d checked his eyes, and determined they were still black, I brought him with me to the bathes. The boy went, but his whole attitude was distant. He didn’t speak and barely lifted his eyes. It made my heart sick.

Back in my room again, he began to weep silently as I brought out the silk. I laid the _kimono_ over his knees and took him in my arms, pressing his chest to mine.

“Come sit with me in the window, Itachi,” I muttered, running hands down his spine. “You won’t have to do anything else; I promise you won’t. Just come sit with me in the window.”

For the first time since I found him in the common room after Kakashi and Kisame left, the boy brought his arms up and clung on me. “Alright, Iruka,” he said against my neck.

“That’s a good boy,” I replied. I was going to pull away, but Itachi wouldn’t let me go. His fingers curled together between my shoulder blades. He was weak with the aftereffects of the sedative and I could easily have broken his hold, but I let him restrain me.

“Iruka?”

“Yes, darling?” I said into his hair.

“I’m not angry with you.”

The words made me blink, then I nuzzled into his hair, holding him close again a moment. My teeth were grit. Eyes clenched. _You should be angry with me, Itachi._

“Alright, dear boy.” My voice was thick. “Let’s get you dressed.”

The red silk was badly damaged. It was no matter. I wrapped the young thing in sea-blue silk, instead, and wound wreathes of white peonies in his hair. “You’re lovely,” I said when it was done.

Itachi just knelt and was quiet. He seemed sleepy and not entirely able to think clearly. Only natural after the dose of sedative I’d fed him. I’d told him myself he might feel so. Regretfully, I took his hands and helped him find his feet. Weaving my fingers with his, I lead him to the window box.

I settled on the padded ledge, arranging the pillows, before reaching for the boy. “Come here, Itachi.”

He took my hand and let me tug him to me. Wearily, he leaned on me, almost reclined on my shoulder. Face drowsy and melancholy. His legs kicked free of his _kimono_ and his hands resting slack among the pillows.

“Just relax,” I encouraged. “I’ll watch over you, love.”

Itachi did as I asked, and it wasn’t long before he was loose and breathing even. My own mind was drifting, roaming through thoughts of what to do next, only to be jerked by a group of armored men and women passing before the window.

Madara was easy to distinguish in his mail the color of drying blood. Kakashi wasn’t hard to notice, either, given how often we… spent time together. But it was the large, gray-skinned man my attention was drawn to. He seemed to catch a glimpse of the two of us, and his steps faltered. The rest of Madara’s retinue flowed around the slightly dazed man, leaving him standing alone.

Watching Itachi like a hungry man seeing bread. Just beyond his reach.

My young one didn’t see him at first, but, as if the shark _samurai_ were the sun and the boy a flower, he registered the larger man standing in the road. The boy started and smiled a wistful little tug of the lips.

My breathing was heavy and my heart racing. Itachi didn’t notice. He reached out to press his fingers to the glass. The moment the digits made contact with the pane, the _samurai_ turned away, his strides carrying him out of sight.

“He… left.” His voice was low and broken. Quiet tears began to slip out of his eyes, as his breathing turned ragged. But he hardly moved. Just brought a hand to his face to catch the salty drops.

I caught his frame and pulled him into my lap. Thoughtlessly, he turned into me, tucking his face in my neck, so he could shudder out his sobs on my skin. I held him, stroking his back and cursing Kisame’s insensitivity. Couldn’t the man have just reached back to the boy?

“He left.” This time the words were a hiccup.

“Yes, dear boy. But I’m sure he didn’t want to. He’s a _samurai_ and has to serve his lord.” I could have caught him under the chin and made him look at me, but I didn’t. I just let him hang onto my _kimono_ and cry his tears. Resting my chin on his head, I said, “But, don’t forget, he came here with my Kakashi, and Kakashi always comes back. I’m sure your Kisame will come with him.”

A restless shift in my arms before he settled back, as if exhausted. Even his tears appeared to have run out. “Do you really think so, Iruka?”

My arms tightened in a coil around him and, for once, I said a true thing. “I hope so, darling.”

We sat quiet again for a while, and I didn’t attempt to make the boy move or face the window again. Cradling him instead. This might have been best because Itachi was nearly asleep when Madara strode past the window. His limp apparent and his armor a gleam of drying blood.

My breath caught in a sharp intake past my teeth, eyes cutting, as they tracked the Uchiha lord’s progress and ultimate entrance into the _Okiya_.

_It’s not possible._ The thought dragged through my mind. _He_ can’t _know who Itachi is. There was nothing to give him away. Nothing at all._

Fingers tightening on silk, my heart rate pulsing in my ears, my mind shuffled through all the eventualities and decided none of them were good.

I was just easing Itachi out of my arms and into the pillows, against his half-conscience protests, when Ino peeked around the screen, a frown lining her features.

“Iruka, Lady Tsunade wants you.”

My heart turned over, constricting painfully in my chest in the process. “Did she say what about?”

“No, just to come fetch you.” Ino looked down at the unidentifiable lump of silk, which was Itachi. Blessedly, the boy was sound asleep again, but Ino’s frown deepened, causing me to snag her hand and squeeze it in both of mine when I sled off the window ledge.

“Stay with Itachi while I’m gone, Ino.”

She blinked. “Ahh… Alright.”

The girl moved to do what I’d asked, but I wouldn’t let her go. “Don’t leave him until I come back, Ino.”

“Alright, Iruka! Jeez,” she said, wrenching her hand away and crawling over the pillows to join Itachi. “Go help Tsunade before she has a heart attack.”

_You obviously know our dear_ Oni _pretty well._ The thought flickered through my mind, as I ran my hands down my sides, smoothing my _kimono_ , and nervously tweaking my hair. While Tsunade liked to brag her house served the family of the lord of _Konoha_ , it was quite another thing to have said lord in her house. Especially, given who else was often in her house. Tsunade wouldn’t like Madara to know how many of the Nara frequented her _oiran_.

But, slipping around the screen into the lunge area, I knew none of that explained what the lady of the house would want with _me_ in this circumstance. Surely, Madara hadn’t recognized _me_ in his brief passing pasted the window. It was true I’d almost taken the man’s head off several times, but on each of those occasions my face had been well hidden behind my mask. There shouldn’t have _been_ a way for him to recognize me.

Which brought my thoughts back to Itachi, even as my eyes determined the lounge area was empty and my feet carried me to the partition. Madara couldn’t have determined Itachi’s parentage with such a quick glance, could he? Or had the shark _samurai_ perhaps described Itachi to his lord? Betrayed a flash of red in Itachi’s eyes as they coupled?

The notion left me chilled, but I still put on a devils take it grin when I rounded the partition and found the lady of the _Okiya_ and the Uchiha standing together. “Tsunade, darling,” I enthused. “What can I possibly do for you? Or,” I turned my calculating brown eyes on Madara, “am I doing for you, my lord?” I accompanied the last words with a sweeping bow. “It would be an honor to serve the lord of _Konoha_.”

Madara’s gaze held not a trace of black. Simple, pure fire, as red as the last time my _katana_ had met his on the battlefield. Those eyes oh so like Itachi’s. “You know me?”

The question was a rumble, but a calm one, which snatched away my concern Madara knew _me_. The man wasn’t one to beat at a point. He was blunt. I rather liked that about him.

“Even an _oiran_ may know the lord of _Konoha_ ,” I said with another bow. “And your brother’s rather fond of me.”

The man’s eyes flickered. “Oh? Is it so? You do seem Kakashi’s type. I, however, have no interest in _oiran_.”

“Iruka,” Tsunade broke in, at last, “Lord Madara wants to buy Itachi.”

The words took me aback, despite my desire to stay glib whatever was hurled at me. “To… buy… Itachi.” Pieces started clicking together in my mind. Madara’s hardly glancing in the window as he passed by. Kisame’s pause in the road and his hungry look. “Oh.” Even his turning away when Itachi had reached for him. “Ohh!”

But I had to be sure.

“Why, that’s wonderful, Tsunade!” I exalted, clasping my hands before my chest. “You must be thrilled! And the boy will be too, I’m sure! Who wouldn’t be pleased to belong to and serve the lord of _Konoha_!”

“He is not for me,” Madara stated flatly. “One of my _samurai_ has served me well and become taken with the boy.”

_Oh, thank gods!_ I thought.

“Oh, but of course!” I said. “Still, who wouldn’t count it an honor to be a part of your household, Lord Madara.”

“Iruka,” Tsunade all but moaned, rubbing at her eyes with the space between thumb and fingers, “just go prepare the boy.”

“Of course, darling! Whatever you’d like.” Then, capturing both her hands, I said another true thing in the day. “And for gods’ sake, Tsunade, have your haggling done before I bring the boy out. He’s already stood by once, while his life was reduced to nothing but the numbers etched on coins, don’t subject him to that again.”

Then I turned away in a whirl of silk and bustled back to the window box. “Out!” I demanded of Ino when I slid past the screen, making her jump.

“Hells, ‘Ruka! You’ve been in nothing but a foul mood since the new one got here!” At least the lither blond had the sense to hiss it at me, as she made her way out, instead of snarling it, as she doubtless would have liked. If she’d disturbed the boy, I would have shown her what a foul mood from me really looked like.

Alone with Itachi again, I was glad to see he hadn’t moved since I’d left. The lingering effects of the sedative keeping him drowsy, after all. _Just as well_ , I thought leaning down and brushing stray hairs from his face.

“Itachi. Itachi, wake up, darling.”

The young thing stirred slowly, his eyes pulling open with difficulty. “Iruka?”

“Yes, dear boy. Here, stand up now, I have something to tell you.”

He did as asked, but his movements were slow and his face solemn. “What is it, Iruka?”

Smiling my brightest, I pulled him into a fierce hug. “Something wonderful’s happened, Itachi! It might not seem like it now, but everything is going to be alright, and I need you to not be afraid and to trust me.” I pulled back, holding him by the shoulders. “Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

He shook his head. “No, Iruka. I trust you.”

The words and the glint of terror in his eyes, cast in glowing red threads, went straight to my heart. But I refused to allow it to sway me. There was no time, unless I wanted Tsunade to come bursting in.

“That’s a good boy,” I said instead of all the other things I wished to tell him, hoping my smile and face didn’t give away my own fear. Or my embrace the pounding of my heart. “Come along, now.”

Taking his hand, I led him to where the lady of the _Okiya_ and the lord of _Konoha_ waited. His steps didn’t falter until he saw who was waiting for him.

“Who…” the word whispered out, the boy’s eyes widening in fright at the large man with the blood-red gaze.

Coming behind him, I squeezed his shoulders and pressed my cheek to his, hoping to convey strength. “This is Lord Madara, Itachi. He’s bought you, isn’t it marvelous!” The boy stiffened in my hold, but I pushed on. “No more fretting here in the _Okiya_ with me!”

The tautness of him went out of his body, but Madara had noticed it. Stepping forward he said, “There is no need to fear me, boy. I will do you no harm.”

“Go on,” I murmured, giving him a little push on the shoulder blades.

Itachi tripped forward a step, righted himself, and shambled a few steps more to Madara’s side. All of him sad and half-afraid, though he tried not to show it. Not looking up, even when Madara said, “Come,” and the two of them walked away.

When they were out of sight, I collapsed into Tsunade, gripping double handfuls of her shirt.

“Gods! Oh, gods!” I groaned.

“Iruka!” Tsunade yelped. “What the hells is wrong with you?!”

“You don’t know what’s just happened,” I moaned.

Then, I pushed away from her and gathered my _kimono_ in my hands, hitching it up above my knees. “Oh, gods! What a mess!”

“Iruka?! What are you doing?!” the terrified lady of the _Okiya_ called after me.

“I’m going to follow them, Tsunade!”

“Are you mad, Iruka?!”

“For several years, Tsunade!” I spat, bolting out the door.

It’d been some time since I’d been outside the _Okiya_. Perhaps a little _too_ long, I reasoned, shimming up a wall and sprinting over several roofs, cursing the cumbersome silk I wore all the while. Normally, I _liked_ wearing _kimonos_ , but my exertions reminded me just how impractical they were. I very nearly stumbled and killed myself several times before I reached a vantage point where I could observe Itachi among Madara’s retinue.

His delicate body was pressed into the shark _samurai’s_ , his expression afraid as he glanced over the Uchiha lord. But the gray-skinned man smirked, showing sharp teeth, and put an arm around my young raven to cup his hip.

“Don’t worry, little flower,” the man grunted, “you’re just mine.” His playful grin slipped away. “That is, if you want to be.”

I hovered behind the ridgepole of a house, gripping the tiles so hard my knuckles stood out white under my flesh. But I needn’t have worried over the boy’s response. The slender body I knew so well from nights it had pressed up to mine for comfort, slipped away from Kisame and stopped. Pulling the _samurai_ to stop walking, as well, and prompting a halt from all Madara’s following. The whole of them watched as Itachi looked at his chosen mate with those steady, clear, decisive black eyes he had when he was calm and sure.

Confident in that sureness, my boy raised his arms to catch the larger man by the shoulders and pull himself up to the _samurai’s_ face. The young thing set his mouth over the shark man’s and held him in the kiss until both their lips were bruised and puffy. Simply kissing the man in sight of all passer-by, though he’d once flushed at my description of tongues joining.

What a sight they were! The sumptuous and flawless vision that was Itachi in flowers and finery and the gray-skinned, sharp-toothed predator so capable of crushing that fragile beauty.

Swaying back down from off his toes, Itachi held the larger man’s eyes. “I want to be yours, Kisame. Because you gave me a choice.”

Then he was doing something I’d never heard him do before. He was laughing a clear, sweet, full peel of mirth because Kisame had caught him about the waist and was swinging him around, as though he were a child or a bride on her wedding day.

Most likely the last, I reasoned, as the _samurai_ stopped spinning my boy around, so he could plant him on a hip, support him in this awkward position with hands on his ass, and ravage his mouth, until Itachi was gasping and squealing little sounds around the shark’s lips.

I didn’t need to see more. Slipping down the backside of the roof, I knew Itachi, at least, was fine. He was bloody elated to be going home with the man who’d marked him and who he’d marked in turn. No, in that respect, I had nothing to worry about.

It was everything else which kept my heart knocking in my chest, as I made my stealthy way back to the _Okiya_. Surely, with his _samurai_ , the boy would be calm and happy and his eyes… his eyes wouldn’t go red. Surely Madara wouldn’t… wouldn’t kill the child for an unproven suspicion of his heritage. Surely… surely with the plain adoration I’d seen on the shark’s face when he looked at Itachi the man would protect my boy… Even from his lord if need be.

And Kakashi… Surely knowing how much I cared for the boy, my favorite wouldn’t allow anything to happen to the young one. Even if the danger was his brother…

“Oh, gods,” I groaned, when I shut the door of the _Okiya_ behind me. “Oh, gods, it’s all a mess.”

And if all of _that_ weren’t enough, there still remained the worst possible question.

I moaned, slumping back against the door and covering my face with my hands.

What on earth was I going to tell Anko?!

**Author's Note:**

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